Chapter 2: Shadows in the Static
Echo-9's corridors were narrow, lit only by dim emergency lamps that flickered in sync with the signal's hum blaring from the station's speakers. Lyra gripped her flashlight, its beam catching rusty panels and clouds of dust floating in zero gravity. Her boots clanged on the metal floor, but the sound felt muted, as if the station absorbed everything except that cursed rhythm.
She headed for Ren's compartment in the engineering wing. The door was ajar, and a faint, mechanical hiss-not human-came from within. Lyra peered inside cautiously. Ren sat at his workbench, surrounded by scattered tools and wire scraps. His mechanical arm, usually buzzing with micro-motors, was still, and he stared blankly at a portable terminal's screen.
"Ren?" Lyra called, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. "Did you hear my call?"
He turned his head slowly. His face, usually smeared with grease and stubble, was pale, his eyes empty, as if looking through her.
"I heard," he said finally, his voice oddly flat. "The signal... it's not just noise, Lyra. It speaks."
A chill crawled up Lyra's neck.
"Speaks? What are you talking about? It's just code, maybe an old pirate trick. Where's Avis?"
Ren didn't answer. Instead, he handed her his terminal. The screen flashed the same symbol sequence Lyra had seen in the control room, but now they formed words. Not in English, not in any known language, but in a mix of geometric patterns and hieroglyphs. Yet, staring at them, Lyra felt an eerie sense of recognition, as if the symbols stirred something deep in her mind.
"Where's this from?" she asked, stepping back.
"From the signal," Ren replied, his mechanical arm twitching suddenly, as if waking. "I patched it into my implant. It... showed me."
"Showed you what?" Lyra gripped her flashlight, ready to wield it as a weapon.
But Ren only smiled-cold, unnatural.
"Them. They're already here."
Before Lyra could respond, the compartment's lights went out. The signal's hum grew louder, now resonating not just from the speakers but from the walls, the floor, the air. Lyra switched on her flashlight, but its beam diffused in the darkness, as if swallowed by something alive. She heard a rustle-not footsteps, but something sliding, fluid, like what she'd seen on the cameras.
"Ren, we need to find Avis!" she shouted, but turning, she found him gone. Only the terminal remained on the desk, its screen now showing not symbols but an image: the gas giant's rings, and in their shadow, hundreds of shimmering forms moving toward the station.
Lyra ran. She knew where to find Avis-the biological lab, at the heart of Echo-9, behind three sealed airlocks. As she navigated the corridors, the signal grew more insistent, the air heavier, as if charged with electricity. At one turn, she spotted marks on the wall: long, winding scratches, as if something had clawed the metal with liquid light.
Reaching the lab, Lyra punched in the access code, but the airlock didn't budge. Instead, the panel lit up: "Quarantine activated. Unauthorized biological material detected."
"Avis!" Lyra pounded on the door. "Are you there? Open it!"
Through the door's small window, she saw the lab. Avis stood in the center, surrounded by overturned tables and shattered vials. Her eyes glowed faintly blue, and tiny particles, like pollen, floated around her. She turned slowly toward Lyra and spoke without moving her lips:
"They're not enemies. They're the answer."
Lyra stumbled back as the airlock began to open. Behind her, she heard that same sliding sound, now dangerously close. Her flashlight slipped from her hands, and in its beam, she saw a shadow-inhuman, fluid, with eyes that were both empty and infinite.
The signal in her hea
d became a voice. And it called her by name.